Take a Chant on Me

How a nice Jewish girl ended up

We descended through the deserted small towns of the Catskill Mountains, the six of us in Zenzalai's car, wending our way back to Manhattan, chanting in the call-and-response of siddha yoga. I was behind the wheel, because Zenzalai, the brilliant jazz singer I'd met during my week at the ashram, had broken her foot. The second day, Zenzalai had been rushing forward to receive

shaktipa

--literally "descent of grace," in which the guru transmits spiritual energy to the seeker--off the tip of a peacock feather.